


Solid State

by symsonic



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-08-14 00:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symsonic/pseuds/symsonic
Summary: “Why is there a R&D department beneath Yankee Stadium anyways?”





	1. Chapter 1

Greg kicked an imaginary dust bunny, trailing along Stanton, who was keeping two steps ahead.

“We’re a baseball team. Not a tech company.” His hands dive into his pockets, letting out a humph. “Also why are you dragging me along of all people? Cutch would have loved this kind of stuff. And I need to feed Mr. Delicious his midnight snack.”

Giancarlo ignores him, steadily walking down what seems an endless hallway. He could have sworn he saw the same rooms at least 5 times now. “Listen, I just need …” He looks downwards, his eyes meeting his trailing feet. “I need someone impartial. Not a third rate conspiracy theorist.”

“He’s only third rate? Oomph.”

“I feel like Schilling takes the cake.”

The two reach the end of the hallway, their way impeded by two unusually large metal doors with what appears to be a keypad and ID slot next to it. Greg finally catches up and leans over slightly, trying to catch his breath. “I miss cardio for a week and I can’t catch up with you. Ok, what’s the plan next?”

His partner is already rummaging through his pockets, seemingly aware of what to do. “I have something here … an ID with some instructions…” Stanton mumbles, yelling out a small yelp as an old button pin pricks his index finger while in his pockets.

Greg just stares at him, half annoyed and half unimpressed.

 

“Here it is.” Stanton pulls out something resembling a card with a piece of paper wrapped over it. He pulls off the rubber band and removes the paper, revealing an ID card with an unfamiliar face on it. “Let’s see.” He silently reads the note, eyes intent on every scribble. Meanwhile, Greg begins to think about Lish again, and how scared his furless friend must be right now.

“G.” Greg’s voice drops an octave, sounding upset. 

“I almost have it hold up. Lemme try this.” Stanton walks over to the slot reader and inserts the ID. A red light flashes and he almost jumps.

“Uh…” Greg looks over his shoulder.

“Two more tries ... “ Giancarlo mutters to himself while flipping the card to its opposite side, then reinserting it. This time he’s met with a beep and a green light. “Okay, now for the pin …” He presses a series of numbers, 4106003, and the door hisses open, something out of a science fiction movie. All of the night Greg was giving Giancarlo crap for dragging him out on a Saturday night in December into what seems to be a lab underneath Yankee Stadium of all places. But this?

 …

What the hell is this?

G looks over his shoulder to Bird. The latter just shrugs. They’re in way too deep to go back now. What follows next are careful steps forward.

Greg latches onto Stanton, almost uncomfortably close as the two press forward. It’s too dark, but the one thing they can make out in wires. Plenty of them. They all seem to be leading up to something at the end of the room, but it’s too far for them to make it out at this point.

“Yo man.” A computer monitor distracts Giancarlo, and leads him towards it. “What the hell is that?” In question is a screen of what resembles a silhouette of a human-appearing body. He lurches forward and carefully places his right hand on the mouse, slightly wiggling it to wake the computer up. The cursor on the monitor responds, and hovers over the diagram.

_“Holy shit, he was right.”_

Greg stays still, eyes fixated on the end of the room, and whatever is hooked up to the mass amounts of circuitry. Almost mesmerized, he continues on. Encaptivated by the humming of the machines surrounding him. 

He can finally make it out. There’s a person at the end of the room, hooked up to those wires. Something resembling a human at least. He’s naked, faint light runs through its body in a circuit-like fashion, clashing with its seemingly organic skin. Wires were connected to its arms, legs and spine, Greg could only assume it was the source of the weird light.

It’s also huge. Nearing almost 7 feet. It looks like it could crush both Greg and G without putting much effort into it. Bird stops and turns around, looking for Stanton. “Where the hell did he go?” Whispering to himself, he starts to walk back until he hears a click from behind him.

And another one, and another one. Greg’s head snaps forward in bewilderment. The wires are disconnecting. He doesn’t know if he should run out or scream for Giancarlo. Fear prevents him from doing either, and freezes him in place.

After what seems like an eternity, if it was only just a few moments,

The machine’s eyes open.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be exaggerating Judge's height for fun. :^)

_“G! G! This thing is moving!”_

Greg jumps back, keeping one eye on the robot and another scattering around looking for his partner. The machine, completely untethered, steps down from its pedestal, red glowing eyes now fixated on Greg. It stands fully erect, towering over him. He takes another step back and the machine moves to follow him.

**_“Giancarlo I SWEAR IF YOU LEFT ME HERE TO DIE!”_ **

Greg fully turns around and sees Stanton in the distance, running towards him. _“Man what the hell is that? Get away from it!”_ Greg turns back, making sure the robot didn’t move any closer before taking a few more steps away. _“I didn’t do anything. I swear!”_

_“Jesus, then why is that thing …. You know … on?”_

Giancarlo grabs him by the hand and yanks Greg towards him. He starts to motion towards the door, before realizing Greg was almost dead weight standing still.

_“He-hey G?”_

He turns back around.

_“It’s not doing anything. Li-like it’s just looking.”_ Greg was right. The machine was activated and on, if the last few moments mean anything, but it was only observing. Its eyes were still focused on Bird, never blinking. After a few moments, it takes another step forwards and turns to Stanton, who immediately grew two shades paler.

_“Is .. is it going to do anything?”_ Greg asks.

_“I don’t know…”_ Giancarlo lets go of Greg’s arm and approaches the automation. _“Hey … can you hear me?”_ He asks with a cautious but curious gaze, knowing one wrong move will spell the end for both of them. _“Do you know what I’m saying? Can you say yes?”_ The room was dimly lit, and Stanton couldn't make out any details of the thing in front of them, besides its faintly glowing eyes.

The machine remained towering and unchanging. Giancarlo frowns and looks back at Greg, who inched away a little while Stanton was distracted. _“I don’t think he’s programmed, dude.”_

_“Programmed with what?”_

_“I don’t know. What the hell is a robot underneath Yankee Stadium is going to be programmed with?”_

_“Ba--”_

Giancarlo cuts him off. _“Don’t answer that.”_ He turns his attention back to the machine. _“He’s able to move at least.”_ Greg scoffs. _“At least? How is that a good thing? I don’t want a seven foot naked man-robot-whatever following me. At all.”_ His stomach began to turn. This seemed like it was out of a VHS SciFi movie. As much as he wish he could close his eyes, open them and be back at home reunited with his cat, this was reality for him. Being face to face with something far from human.

_“I’m just saying.”_ Stanton’s eyes trail off, looking at the laboratory equipment surrounding them. _“This might be our problem for a little while.”_ Greg flips. _“Our problem?!”_ He raises his voice, alarming his partner. _“You dragged me all the way out here on some crack theory --”_

_“That happened to be true.”_ Giancarlo interrupts.

_“That I wanted nothing to be part of! Now there’s this … thing none of us can explain following us around like a child and I just have to deal with it?”_

G crosses his arms and glances to the side. He didn’t want to admit Greg was right, even though he was. But …

_He’s right. How do we explain this?_

After a moment, Stanton turns around and asks the machine. _“Hey. Identify yourself. What’s your name. Your serial number? ID number?”_

Finally, the robot responds.

**_“This is an experimental unit. Coded DHX-427-99”_ ** The words snapped Greg out of his mood and stared in amazement. It was surprisingly human-like. Giancarlo just musters a shrug. _“Well we got something out of it. Now what?”_

_“Is it going to keep following us around?”_ Giancarlo navigates around the tight space to move behind the android, and its head pivots a complete 180 degrees to maintain eye contact with him. _“Oooohkay, I’m not liking this at all.”_ He begins to uncharacteristically panic. _“I think I’m getting sick.”_ He quickly maneuvers back to Greg, who feels his heart about to jump out of his chest. The robot’s head resets to normal, continuing its gaze.

_“Yeah I think we’re stuck with it.”_

_“I guess get it into some clothes.”_ Greg resigns to the fact that this … thing is now with them. _“The longer I’m subject to this bucket of bolts naked, the longer I’m getting Terminator vibes.”_ That last line forces a nervous chuckle from Stanton.

_“I think from the lift’s entrance we can sneak into the locker room upstairs. That’s a good place to start.”_


	3. Chapter 3

The three make it back to the ground level without incident. Fortunately the doors to the clubhouse were unlocked when they arrived.

Greg was going to ask why was everything unlocked, but the idea of a gift horse quickly silenced that notion.

They enter the pitch black locker room, and immediately try to feel their way around the room using their memory.  _“Where’s the lights?”_ Whispered Greg, the only things that illuminated the dark were the eyes of the machine trailing them. _“Shouldn’t they be by the entrance?”_

 _“Yo dude shut up, I’m looking.”_ Giancarlo wanders around, his right hand extended, looking for something to grab on to for leverage. Instead, he stumbles over a folding chair and trips, landing face first onto the base of another chair, creating a cacophony of crashing noises and yelling.

_**“JESUS, G!”** _

_“I’m fine! I’m fine.”_ The only thing that was injured was his pride. After a few moments disoriented, Stanton gets back up. If he was by some chairs, then he should be by some actual lockers. _“Ok … ok… we need to find an extra set of clothes or something. You got your cell phone or something? Can you turn on the flashlight?”_ Greg reaches in his pocket for his smartphone and surfs through the settings for a flashlight option. A moment later a bright light emanates from the camera flash, allowing Bird to slightly maneuver his way through the room.

  
_“Why didn’t you just turn on your flashlight instead of crashing through everything?”_

_“You tell anyone about that and I’ll kick your ass.”_

Greg stifles a laugh and begins to rummage through the nearest locker, looking for garments of any sort. _“I’m finding underwear and socks mostly.”_ He mumbles while using the light on his phone to careful observe each pair.”

 _“Well remember our friend here can’t fit into just … anything.”_ Giancarlo looks back and sure enough, those seemly disembodied pair of glowing eyes were staring right back at him. _“I hate this.”_

_“I could be at home right now with Lish.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“Nice and warm.”_

_“Greg.”_

_“Not a care in the w--”_

Greg’s interrupted by a light punch to the ribcage. It was enough for him to shut up and continue searching. When they completely scoured one locker, they went to the next. They did this a few times before Greg stands up, and asks, not before hitting his head on the shelf above him.

 _“... Wait. Why are we doing this? Aren’t you the biggest dude on the team? What about your locker?”_ There was a moment of silence before Stanton responded. _“Uh, I don’t think I keep anything in my locker over the break? I mean, I probably have an extra uni--- uh let’s check.”_ Greg furrowed his brow. _Asshole._ He navigated across the room to Giancarlo’s locker and started rummaging. _“Hey! Wait!”_ He stumbles to follow Greg but it was too late.

 _“Found something!”_ Bird raises a pair of underwear, seemingly iridescent, as light brilliantly reflects off the fabric. Greg shoots a confused look at Stanton, who turns away, upset. _“They’re my lucky pair. Hit a three homer game back in Miami wearing those.”_

_"But why do you have them in the first place?"_

_"I don't have to answer that."_

Even in complete darkness, he could feel the judgement in Greg Bird’s eyes.

 

After rummaging a bit more through various lockers, including Giancarlo’s, they were able to cobble out a makeshift outfit for the new robot friend, even if it's essentially a Yankees baseball uniform. The duo bickers more than they actually searched however, with the large humanoid robot just staring at the two of them. Almost as if it was judging them silently.

It probably is.

 _“Well, now what?”_ Greg grabs a nearby folding chair and sits, feeling accomplished for at least the next few moments. He turns his attention to the robot. _“Hey you.”_

The machine turns immediately to Greg,

 _“Can you get dressed?”_ He notions to the pile of clothes lying on a chair next to Stanton. The machine’s eyes followed, but they just returned to Greg without anything to follow. _“Uh…”_ He could begin to see the annoyance build in his partner’s eyes. He approaches the robot and slowly reaches for its right arm.

Careful now.

He successfully grabs onto its arm without incident, meaning he wasn’t murdered in the process. Its eyes are still tracking him, not caring that he’s latched onto one of its appendages. Greg applies a bit of force to move its arm upwards slowly. It felt like a lifting a sack of bricks, something he would have probably done while training during the season. He turns around, looking to see what Giancarlo thought.

The other’s face was still the same, somewhat annoyed. All Greg can do is muster a look in return. _Well, you have any other ideas?_

 _“Hey robo, lift your left arm.”_ Giancarlo says.

The machine instantly raises its arm, leaving Greg dumbfounded. After a brief moment, he looks back at Stanton.

_“Well, I guess we oughta get this over with?”_

_“Yeah whatever.”_


	4. Chapter 4

It took about 30 minutes but they finally managed to dress the robot up in a makeshift New York Yankees uniform. It still would garner some attraction from people but nowhere near as much as a seven foot naked man running through The Bronx on a snowy December night. Greg insisted that they give it a cap, but Giancarlo figured the clothes were enough. As they leave the locker room, he checks his phone, going through his contacts. Greg stops. _“What are you doing?_ ”

_“Trying to find someone.”_

  
_“Who?”_

 _“Someone who we can crash with overnight? Or at least a few hours?”_ Greg looked lost in thought for a few moments. _Yeah, where were they going to take this thing to anyways?_ Giancarlo looks away for a brief moment, before looking back at his phone. _“Didn’t McCutchen move into a new apartment in the Bronx? Wanting to be close to the stadium?”_

Greg shrugged. _“Probably. I never asked him about it before.”_

 _“Well I’m going to ask him now.”_ Giancarlo dials his teammate’s number and waits for a reply. Greg was seemingly going to interject, but doesn’t. The machine, as always, just stands there, observing.

 _“Hey!”_ Giancarlo puts on a somewhat fake tone. _“Where are you? At home? Great! Can I ask you for a huuuuuge favor?”_ Greg looked away, nervous about what was going to happen next. How was he going to get home anyways? He took an Uber here, but he was certain that thing wasn’t going to fit in a normal car.

 _“Really? Thanks man. We’ll be over in a bit.”_ Stanton puts down the phone. _"He’s onboard."_

_“Onboard. You didn’t mention anything about you-know-who being a robot.”_

_“Well how am I going to say that on the phone? Listen once we get there I’ll explain.”_ He looks at the automation. _“Do we even have to? I mean, he looks human enough to me.”_

_“We need help, G.”_

Giancarlo eyes shift down, feeling somewhat ashamed. He was right. He was in way over his head and he needs an extra hand or two. This … could have been a mistake.

He tries to snap out of it and carries on. _“Alright. We need to move on. He’s a few blocks down once we make a right on 167th."_

Greg blinked. _“We’re walking?”_

_“Yeah. What’s the alternative?”_

His partner frowned. _Yeah I guess._ Greg resumed walking towards the exit. Neither of them was dressed for this, and even if their robot friend couldn’t feel the cold, they were still bound to garner some attention, even in this snowstorm. _“Are side streets a good idea?”_

Stanton shrugged. _“I don’t know this area well enough to be honest. It’s only my first year here you know.”_

Greg laughed. _“You didn’t think you’d be roaming around New York with a robot a year ago back in Miami?”_

 _“Nah. The robot thing maybe. Just not in New York.”_ He smirked. Opening an emergency exit caused a gust of winter air to greet him, with its sheer force causing Greg to turn away. _“You sure you wanna do this?”_

 _“No. Let’s make snowmen instead_.” Stanton shoved Greg outside into the harsh weather, following him immediately after, with the machine last. The white from the snow illuminated the entire city, causing the two to squint and readjust their eyes after being in the dark for so long. _“Alright.”_ Stanton looks back at his phone. _“We’re about a 15 minute walk to Cutch’s.”_

_“15 minutes?!”_

_“Shut up and keep walking Birdy.”_

Greg once again wanted to protest, but instead huffed and continued trekking in the snow. The night has just started for the two of them.

\---

The actual and visual warmth of Andrew McCutchen’s place is a relief for both Greg and Giancarlo. They want to consider it a safe spot for the time being, but they were also weary about the origins and intentions of their seven foot friend, if it even had any. Andrew’s just as good a host as any. Offering to put away both men’s winter coats and not initially questioning why their friend had on a Yankee uniform. But eventually he asks.

 _“So uh … are you going to tell me what this is about?”_ Andrew stares at the seven foot figurative elephant.

 _“Yeah, so…”_ A million different lines whirl through Giancarlo’s head, none of them made any sense. And why would they? What was standing in front of the three men defies all logic or explanation. Figuring they had nothing else to lose really, he just blurts it out.

_“This thing is a robot.”_

There’s a few moments between the three, with Andrew looking back and forth between Stanton and Bird, and the “robot” in question.

 _“I’m sorry, what?”_ Cutch gives them a blank look. Meanwhile, if looks could kill, Greg Bird would have murdered his teammate right now.

Giancarlo didn’t miss a beat. _“We uh ...went poking around in Yankee Stadium tonight and we found this dude”_ He gestures to robot _“ … underground in some sort of research lab, hooked up to god knows what.”_

_“Is this some sort of joke?”_

_“Brother, when do I ever joke around?”_

Cutch stares at him. G blinks, realizing that wasn’t the smartest thing he said tonight.

 _“Listen.”_ Andrew begins, already getting annoyed. _“If ya’ll got into trouble and need to lay low, that’s fine. You can just tell me. You don’t have to make up some mumbo-jumbo bullmess.”_

Greg dejectedly looks away to the window behind Cutch. It was still snowing. He had no idea how we was going to get home, nor did he know who was going home with him, if anyone. He leans on the wall, looking weary. This was not how he wanted to spend his Saturday night. Giancarlo immediately takes notice. _“Hey Birdman, you okay?”_

 _“No, I’m not.”_ He mumbles back. _“I’m tired.”_

Stanton couldn’t reply. He felt something twinge inside of his chest, perhaps a smidge of guilt. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was the reason why everyone was in this mess right now.

 _“Look, guys…”_ Cutch’s tone begins to lighten, he’s beginning to take pity on his teammates. _"I know you guys are going through alot. I get it. I am too. We're all a long way from home. Ti--_

Before Andrew could finish his words, arguably the most bizarre thing to happen tonight begins.

\--

The three heard a symphony of disjointed whirring noises and they each turned around, only to reveal that their robot friend was doing ... something. The only thing it could best described as, was robot things.

Several metal panels erupted from its pectoral muscles, abdominal wall, biceps, triceps, quadriceps and calves, stretching and ripping through the Yankees uniform both men tried so hard to get on.   
  
A faint humming noise could be heard from the center of his chest. Giancarlo, the only one of the three who broke out of their terrified state, barely leans forward to see what was inside of their friend. It was a deep cavity, housing some sort of sphere. It was glowing a neon blue, just resting there, emitting an ominous humming noise. The entire time, the face on the robot was constant. Staring off into space it seemed.   
  
After several more moments of quiet. Andrew decided to calmly break  the silence.   
  
_"....if y’all and your terminator friend don't get out of my house in the next second, I'm calling the cops."_


	5. Chapter 5

The three had no other option but to hail an Uber back to Greg's place. Cutch didn't have a car, at least nothing large enough to hold their mechanical friend. They all get into a black SUV, the driver just asked Giancarlo for his name, making sure it was the right client. The machine and Greg sat in the back, the former being so huge that he had to crouch and lower his head to fit in.   
  
It was an uneventful ride, with the driver and Stanton making boring small talk while the other two remained quiet. After reaching Greg's place, Giancarlo slips the driver a $20 and they all exit the car.  
Greg opens the door and the first thing he's welcomed to is his cat, Mr. Delicious jumping down from the sofa and running up to him, meowing and nuzzling his leg.   
  
_"Hey buddy."_ Bird says softly. _"Sorry for being away for too long."_ He picks the cat up and walks into the living with, with Stanton and the robot behind him. Giancarlo walks to the sofa and sits down, his eyes dashing back and forth between Greg and the robot. He wanted to make himself comfortable, but considering there was an seven foot robot staring at the two of them, Stanton obviously couldn’t.

_“So…”_ Giancarlo begins. _“What do we do?”_ Greg turns around, still carrying Mr. Delicious, looking somewhat between a mixture of confused and offended.

_“I don’t know … this whole thing was your idea. You’re telling me you did think about this?”_

_“That I didn’t think the Yankee’s multi-million dollar project would follow us home?”_ Stanton replies, almost hostile. _“I was just planning on snapping some photos for evidence.”_

_“Did you take any?”_ Greg asks. He was met with a guilty silence from his friend. _“Are you kidding me?”_

_“We have the evidence here!”_ Giancarlo gestured to the robot, whose eyes were darting between the two men as they spoke.  
  
_“Yeah but what about the blueprints? Schematics? All of that nonsense you were spouting when you dragged me from my house?”_ Greg’s tone was getting more and more upset. The distress in his voice was completely apparent. What the hell were they gonna do with this thing anyway? The Yankees, or whoever was in charge of this project are gonna know that their robot is missing.

Then a thought crossed Greg’s mind and his stomach dropped. _“Dude….did we see any cameras?”_ The same emotionless expression also spread to Giancarlo’s face as well.

_“...”_ He couldn’t say a thing.

_“We could be on camera...we could get arrested for trespassing!”_

_“I don’t know how, it’s our stadium.”_ Giancarlo mumbles. Greg shot visual daggers through his friend, and Stanton piped up, looking face down at the shaggy blue rug. There’s a few moments of silence between both men before Greg looks over to the machine, who was emotionless as ever.

_“Hey Robo … what’s your prime directive?”_

The machine cocks his head slightly, as if he was curious about the query it just recieved. After a brief moment, it finally responds.

_“I have none. My programming is incomplete.”_

Greg looked dumbfounded, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. Even though he kinda was. Giancarlo finally speaks up.

_“How would you complete your programming?”_

The robot responds almost automatically. _“By either returning to my place of origin, or turning on my artificial intelligence learning core and create my own.”_

The two men look at each other. They couldn’t go back to the lab. At least not now … Greg wrinkles up his face trying to come up with a decision. _“I swear to god, Giancarlo, if you let out a Skynet robot and get both of us murdered --”_

The robot surprisingly interjects. _“This model is not weaponized.”_

Both men stare at the machine again. Greg was still horrified, but slightly less. Just a smidge.

_“You said you can create your own prime directive?”_ Greg asks, feeling as if he’s going to regret this.

_“Yes.”_

Bird looks at Stanton one last time before replying. _“I think you should do that.”_ He looks back to the robot. _“Live your own life and stuff.”_

The robot just started at Greg for a minute before finally replying. _“Noted.”_

There’s a few more moments of silence between the three, neither of them understanding the gravity of what just happened until months to come. Giancarlo stands up and stretches, delivering a fake yawn. “Well, I’m beat.”

Greg shot another dagger at him. Stanton just ignored it. _“I’ll crash here tonight. Just in case.”_

He was almost offended at the gesture, but he took it anyways. _“You’re taking the sofa then. Mr. Delicious and I are sleeping in the bedroom.”_ With that he makes his way to the bedroom door, making sure to keep it open tonight. Giancarlo, being slightly annoyed because he expected a bit more from his sudden houseguest.

_“Alright, night I guess.”_

Greg plops his cat onto the bed, who runs to the pillows, snuggling inbetween them. He highly doubted that he was gonna get any sleep, but at least he could lie down in bed and watch some TV to take his mind off things. Eventually, he did get tired enough to doze off. Interestingly enough, the last thing he saw before finally drifting off was his new robot friend pulling back a chair in the dining room and sitting in it, staring at the wall. It was particular to Greg, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

But however, before he was able to process it any further, he was asleep.


End file.
